“Why didn’t you save me? Why are you letting me bleed out?” Phil’s voice echoes accusingly in my ear, and I blink my eyes open. I recoil, a hoarse scream on my lips.
Phil looks at me with dead, empty eyes, covered in blood. A huge hole gapes in his stomach.
“Why? Why? Why? Why?”
His voice echoes in my head, and I jerk awake, gasping for air.
In. Out.
Dammit.
I clutch my chest where my heart is racing and try to get my breathing under control.
Dream. It was just a dream.
Yet my shirt sticks to my cold, sweat-drenched skin. The images cling to me, refusing to let go of their horror, sticking to me like an oily film, and only now do I realize where I am.
I must have fallen asleep, and Mary must have let me, because a blanket is spread over me.
“You don’t look very well-rested, Goldilocks. Bad dreams?” a dark voice whispers, and I flinch in surprise. Because in the chair next to Phil’s couch sits Nicolas, piercing me with his dark gray eyes.
Dammit.
The blue of her eyes seems almost unreal in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. Her previously unfocused gaze falls on me, and it feels like a punch in the gut.
Have her eyes always been so captivating?
Of course, I knew she was here with my mother, as I had seen them both in the great hall that morning. Just thinking about what they talked about and how deeply that conversation affected me makes my stomach drop again.
Fuck, I don’t want to feel like a miserable bastard, but that’s exactly how I feel. Because this uptight being in front of me is right. I am selfish and self-centered. But hearing it from her mouth ignites an irrational anger in me that I can’t control, and I feel the need to punish her for it.
“What… what are you doing here?” she stammers, clutching the blanket as if it were a damn lifeline.
What am I, Jack the Ripper or something?
“That’s what I should be asking. What are YOU doing here? Because, if I recall correctly, this is my late brother’s living space. And you, Goldilocks, have no right to be here anymore.” I look at her coldly, and although my voice sounds silky and soft, I hear the provocation in it. Which is absolute nonsense, because I know that Mother summoned her here. Yet, the desire to provoke her to the core, to pull her out of her stiff and proper shell, is stronger than reason.
And promptly, she gives me what I want. Her eyes narrow and begin to blaze. She lifts her chin defiantly and glares at me with a challenging look.
“Exactly. It’s your brother's room. And I am… was his girlfriend. His girlfriend who spent every day here with him. Who was there for him. Who worried about him. And I can’t remember seeing you here even once over the past year. So, what exactly are YOU doing here, Your Highness?”
Boom.
Her tone leaves no doubt about the meaning behind each word. That comeback hits its mark. Amelia aimed and struck. And it’s my own fault.
The stab her words give me is intense, and I clench my fist to hold back my anger. But I don’t quite manage it.
“Careful, Goldilocks. You’re treading on dangerous ground,” I warn her, leaning in close, twirling a strand of her long curls between my fingers.
For a moment, I see fear flash in her eyes, and she slightly flinches back. But it passes so quickly that I’m not even sure it was real. She already has that haughty, indifferent expression back on her face and is staring at me coldly. She doesn’t move away, allowing me to continue playing with her hair.
The scent of vanilla drifts into my nose, and by everything that’s sacred, she smells incredible.Dammit.Dangerous. Unexpected.
She holds my penetrating gaze, blue meeting gray, and dammit again. Those eyes. So blue, so innocent. If I’m not careful, I’ll drown in them. Which cannot happen.
“Am I? Why? Because it’s the truth? Because His Eminence doesn’t want to hear it?” She snorts mockingly, pushes the blanket off her body, slaps my hand aside, and tries to stand up. She briefly grimaces in pain and hesitates, touching her ribs for a second before fully rising.
The sting in my chest returns, and I feel the urge to reach out to her, to support her, but I don’t.
